


The Coming of a King

by Teese



Series: The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Growing Up, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3599877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teese/pseuds/Teese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the first part of a series that will follow Thranduil’s life and will look into the major events as well as the smaller events. It is written in a plain style and is sort of an in-depth study of the character the way I see him, inspired by the books and the movies. </p>
<p>In this first part, “The Coming of a King”, we follow him as a young prince in Lindon and towards the battlefield and its horrors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to need a bit of an explanation. I did not write this with the intention of ever publishing it, and it was meant for my eyes and my eyes alone. Ever since I first saw “The Hobbit: The Deolation of Smaug”, I have had wish to find out more about Thranduil and Eryn Galen, but Tolkien never wrote that much on the subject and I simply needed more. In the movies, Thranduil was portrayed as a serious, strict and kind of unloving character, and even as I loved Lee Pace in the role and it is my belief that they could not have found a better actor, I disliked some of the lines and the fact that they did not go into the depths of this mysterious character. 
> 
> The sad fact is that I am no Tolkien expert. Tolkien has written a lot about Middle-earth outside of The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, and I am not a native speaker of the English language and my memory is not always the best, and so it is nearly impossible for me to get all the facts right and even if I have, I have changed a lot of things to my own liking. Had I written this with the intention of publishing it here, I would perhaps not have changed these facts, and you will probably know when you encounter them.  
> Anyways, the point of writing this story was to get some deeper insight to Thranduil as a character, and it has been an interesting journey for me. I have been sort of influenced by reading a) The Silmarillion and b) the Norse Sagas, because yes, I am Norwegian and therefore my language is not perfect. If you choose to read this and I haven’t scared you off, then please keep these things in mind. I have never written anything this long or in this style before, and it is meant to be a pretty straightforward in-depth study of this character and the life I imagine that he lived.
> 
> Most of these characters and this universe do not belong to me, they belong to Tolkien. I have written it for the sake of my own amusement and that of other likeminded people.
> 
> Enjoy! 

PART ONE

Doriath had been the flourishing realm of the Sindar elves, ruled by King Thingol and his Queen, Melian, who had put a girdle of enchantment about its borders, thus protecting it from intruders. In the aftermath of the tragic death of her husband, the grieving Melian departed Middle-earth, breaking the protective girdle and leaving Doriath vulnerable. The Dwarves of Nogrod soon infiltrated the realm and all but destroyed it.

Afterwards, Doriath was abandoned and the remnants of its people fled to safety. The land itself was eventually broken and sank into the sea along with much of the rest of Beleriand, after the War of Wrath.

At the beginning of the Second Age, many Sindar Elves travelled east as they had no wish to be merged with the other Sindar of Beleriand, who lived under the rule of the Noldor, nor did they desire to leave Middle-earth as had been reoffered by the Valar. Amongst these Sindar Elves were Oropher, a wise and stoic elf, who had wished to take up residence with the Silvan elves of Greenwood the Great. He was soon made king, and upon establishing his realm, his son, Thranduil, lingered in the realm of Lindon.

Oropher was loved and respected amongst the Silvan Elves of the Woodland Realm, and he, together with the other Sindar who had travelled over the Blue Mountains, embraced the culture and the language of the Silvan. This had been their wish altogether – to become Silvan folk and to return, as they said, to the simple life natural to the Elves before the invitation of the Valar had disturbed it.

Thranduil had been born in Doriath and its memory was as clear to his recollection as the stars of Elbereth to his sight. He dwelled in Lindon, and despite it being dominated by the Noldorin Exiles, the young prince quite liked it there. Upon the news of his father’s return to the city, Thranduil had felt joyous since he had not seen his beloved Ada for several years. The reason for his return was less joyous though. They now faced the dangers of war and loss, and while the Silvan were a fairly reserved people, Thranduil felt in his heart that Oropher had clear opinions on the War and the role Eryn Galen was to play in its course.

The Prince had not yet seen Eryn Galen, at the request of his father, whom had wished for his son to spend time in Lindon to further educate himself. Thranduil had attempted to spend his time wisely and was meant to leave for his realm in the near future, but now, in 3433 of the Second Age, the danger of Sauron loomed ahead of them and an alliance between the Firstborn and the Aftercomers had been formed – the War Alliance of Elves and Men. Thranduil did not think it likely that he would be visiting Eryn Galen in the near future, and his father would confirm that upon his arrival in Lindon.

“Thranduil?” he heard a soft voice whisper, interrupting his troubled thoughts. As he turned to face the beautiful owner of the pleasant voice, his frown was replaced with a smile. “ _Maer aduial, Miluis_ ,” he said and bowed his head as a polite gesture, even as they knew each other well. “I did not hear you coming.”

His eyes would not let go of her face, so beautiful and pale, and her hair like silver – a shimmering white. Her name was Idhrenil and Thranduil had known her from Doriath, though they had not spoken until meeting again in Lindon. She was gifted with keen eyesight and was a better archer than him by far, something he had discovered by accident, and never had he felt so stunned. Apart from being able to defend herself as well as any warrior, she had a mother’s warmth and a smile that could tame even the strictest of the self-righteous Noldor.

“It does not surprise me, _mellon nín_. Your mind was clouded by thought,” Idhrenil said and locked eyes with the Prince. “Then it is well that you came here to distract me,” Thranduil answered her and walked back onto the balcony. Below them were the busy streets of Lindon, though especially busy on that particular evening. Idhrenil nodded in agreement, though her eyes would not let go of his as she studied him, realising that he must have worried about the War. “You need not carry the weight of Arda on your shoulders on this evening, Thranduil,” she said and her voice sounded as if it was pleading. “It is, after all, _Tarning Austa_ , and even the Prince of his father’s realm may unwind.”

“I believe you are quite right, _Hiril vuin_ ,” Thranduil said and smiled, wishing to do little else but take her hand and dance into the early morning hours. “Let us join the others and have some wine by the great fire. I believe the elders are up for some storytelling tonight.”

 

PART TWO

The evening went by in what felt like the blink of an eye. Wine and delicate foods had been devoured, tales of old had been told and ancient songs had been sung. Through the many hours spent in front of the tale-fire, Thranduil had been in the merry company of Elves of all ages, though the youngest and the eldest had now withdrawn to their dwellings. Some talented Elves had brought instruments with them and played dance music to encourage the remaining Elves to enjoy themselves further, and Thranduil, though usually reserved and perhaps a bit stiff in his demeanour, felt the surge of the wine and grew increasingly sociable. He shared many words with those known and unknown to him, though there was only one elf he truly wished to spend his time with, and that was Idhrenil.

Thranduil had been in deep conversation with a Noldo when he heard the rippling laughter. He turned his attention to the now roaring fire, finding Idhrenil dancing around it, accompanied by many others. His gaze only sought for her and he realised he was staring at her, though he could not remove his eyes from her enticing figure.

Their eyes met and a familiar warmth spread itself within him. “Join us!” she shouted, half-way laughing, and Thranduil could only obey.

At first, they continued to dance around the roaring fire, and they continued well into the earliest of the morning hours. A new and sweet music filled their ears, music meant for couples to dance to, and although they had not entered a courtship, nor had they thought much of it, Idhrenil was quick to take his hand and led him away from the fire. Together they looked and danced like the fiery heat of the hearth. Other Elves watched them and smiled, enchanted by the beautiful sight of the two.

The music eventually dimmed away and the light of day was nearing. Thranduil’s mind was now clear from the wine and he did not think much of the events of _Tarning Austa_ beyond how blissful it had been. Idhrenil had told him goodnight a while ago, retreating to her chambers, and Thranduil had stayed to watch the sun rise. Something in the depths of his heart told him that no moment of his life would be sweeter than this, not in a long time, and he wished to appreciate the warmth of the sun against his face.

Had he not been so utterly distraught by the prospects of war, he would have offered his night with Idhrenil more thought, but that was for the future to decide. He realised he had behaved inappropriately as they were not promised for each other, yet such things had no place in his life now that his people were at risk. Thranduil looked to the rising sun and felt its gentle touch upon his cheek, calming his mind for a small while whilst he hoped for the future to be brighter rather than this gloominess.

 

PART THREE

A week went by and the Prince spent his time training with his sword. He would often spend the majority of his leisure reading in the great library of Lindon, but his mind found little rest and he had not the peace within him to read books. Idhrenil would sometimes stop by and watch him practice, a few times picking up a sword of her own, though she had not the strength of a man and preferred her bow by far. Thranduil felt more at ease during her visits and took pleasure in sparring with her, even if he was her superior in swordsmanship.

He did however not feel like training on that day and stayed in the gardens, listening to the music of Ulmo from the various fountains and small streams. His mind wandered back to those dark and lonely places that he often sought for in his solitude. Because of this, he did not hear the lithe footsteps closing in on him.

An elf with silver hair and eyes of blue steel stood still in the arch of the gateway, his gaze seeking out and finding Thranduil, whom sat in the shadow of a great oak. The silver-haired elf smiled to himself, for he had once again caught his son in a pensive mood.

“ _Henig_ ,” he said and his voice was as gentle as the sea breeze. Thranduil snapped out of his trance, having heard a familiar voice call out for him, and it was not Idhrenil.

“Ada,” he whispered. The word fell like a prayer from his lips, and the suppressed longing he had felt surfaced as he saw the face of Oropher.

Thranduil rose from the ground, every gloomy thought forgotten, and he reached out for Oropher who stood as tall and gracious as the oak he had been resting underneath. The King looked at his son for a moment before embracing him closely, Thranduil sobbing into his father’s olive green robe. He felt as vulnerable as he had when they had abandoned Doriath all those years ago, and as young as an elfling in the eyes of the King of the Silvan Elves.

“My child,” Oropher said whilst holding onto his most precious treasure, more so than all the treasures in all of Greenwood the Great. “How come you are filled with such grief?”

“I have dark thoughts regarding the outcome of this war,” he said and gathered himself the best he could muster. “I fear our people will meet with a tragic end.”

The King frowned as he had not yet told the Noldor of his decision of going to war with them. “How do you know of this?” he asked and walked towards a sitting arrangement under the shadow of the balcony. “I have not yet spoken to Gil-galad of the war.”

“You would not have come here otherwise,” Thranduil answered and took his seat on the opposite side of the table from his father. “Especially not in such a hurried manner, though I am glad to see you now.” The Prince smiled and Oropher nodded in agreement, even if he felt it a bit sad that he was only expected in times of need. “This is true, my child,” he said and sighed. “I wish I would have come here with happier news, but it is not so. And you must not suffer on my behalf, Thranduil, for it is not your place. This is my burden to our people and my burden alone.” Thranduil was faintly stunned by this utterance, his blue eyes large and confused. “You mean to say that I am not permitted to defend my own people in battle? That is an outrageous decision to make, Ada. You cannot make it without my consent!”

A pained expression came over the King’s face, as if his hand had been slapped, and he gave Thranduil a stern look. “It is my decision to make as I am your King,” Oropher said in a voice that was as quiet as it was cold. “If both of us fall, our realm will be without a ruler and our people will be left to fend for themselves. You are heir to the throne and what I ask of you, as my son and the Prince, is to stay put and guide our people through this hardship.”

“Do you think that I cannot muster the battlefields?” Thranduil asked and arose from his seat, eyes glowing with fierce emotion, something that was not entirely unusual when it came to this particular elf, known for his irascibility. “Have I not the right to defend my own people, simply because it is my father’s will to protect me from danger? It is not just!”

Oropher said nothing at that, he merely looked at his son whose eyes were burning with rage and fear, and he felt a great sadness in his heart, for he had no other child than Thranduil and could not bear to outlive him.

“Do not ever speak to me with such hatred again for as long you live,” he said, but his voice was not stern nor was it cold. It quavered with emotion and silenced the younger elf who now regretted his words. He wished nothing but to apologise, but Oropher held his hand up as to silence him and continued:

“If you perish,” he said and his grey eyes were watery and red. “And may the Valar forbid, if you leave for the Halls of Mandos, and I outlive you, then I will fade,” he said and swallowed back his tears. “I cannot let that happen, Thranduil, for I am your father and you my only child. My life would be without meaning.”

The golden-haired one had to fight his own tears, for he had not considered this and felt foolish for his previous outburst. “ _Goheno nín_ ,” he whispered in a pleading manner, his apology heartfelt and the King nodded; a weak smile on his lips. “You are forgiven, my son. You are always forgiven. I have too been young and reckless, and I know that one might feel curious about the battlefield and slaying of enemies. You must remember, my child, that war is naught but cruelty and death. But you are young and have so many wonderful years ahead of you, and so you must remember.”

Thranduil wished that he would have been able to accept his father’s words, but the King had inspired a thought in him, and he knew that he was already forgiven.


	2. Chapter 2

PART ONE

All eyes were staring at Oropher. Gil-galad was seated upon his throne in the midst of the great halls of his dwelling; his eyes too fixated on the King of Greenwood the Great. He bowed his head for the High King of the Noldor, a sign of respect, and Gil-galad looked upon the Sinda with great interest. “Oropher, my friend,” he spoke, though the words were not sincere and all those present could feel it in the now tense atmosphere. “You need not bow for me nor need you bow for anyone else in this room.”

Oropher looked up, revealing an elegant face with refined features. His face was the epitome of stoicism, though his eyes were curious and bright with interest. “My King,” he said, silently defying the order he had been given. Oropher did not wish to be looked upon as any less or any more than any other elf, Noldo or Sinda alike. “I come with news regarding the War,” he said and made sure never to let his eyes drop, keeping the grey eyes of the High King on him as he continued: “My council has come to a decision regarding our participation. You will have the support of my army as we feel we are obliged to help this Alliance in its quest for peace.”

A few snorts came from the council, but the King of the Woodland Realm remained perfectly quiet, his eyes still aimed at Gil-galad who returned the attentive half-glare in his direction. A moment of unpleasant silence went by as the two kings exchanged long looks. Gil-galad was the first to break eye contact, but only as he rose from his golden throne and gave the assembly a look of disapproval. “I am truly glad to hear this news, Oropher,” the High King spoke, though his eyes were glued to the faces of the Noldor present. “I do believe some members of my council are not equally glad,” he said but lowered his gaze and smiled a genuine smile. “But they are unwise to assume that the Silvan have less of a home to defend, and that their help is uncalled for in this battle, for all of us must defend our home that is Middle-earth.”

Oropher could not help but to feel a sparkle of malice in his heart as he watched the Noldor of the council flinch under the sharp eyes of the High King, whom they had offended by offending a guest in his house. “We shall speak more of this in the days to come,” Gil-galad then said and made an offering of peace by bowing his head ever so slightly, though this time it was a sincere gesture and not that of mockery. “I believe it is now time for you to retire to your chambers for the night, _mellon nín_. Your journey has been long and troublesome, and I see that you are weary.”

Oropher nodded, this time obeying the High King’s will as he did not bow as they parted.

 

PART TWO

“We are leaving for Eryn Galen two days from now,” Thranduil said and watched the look of surprise on Idhrenil’s face turn into that of confusion, even as she had been aware that this would soon happen. Upon noticing her worried expression, Thranduil walked up to her and took her hand in his, but it was a meagre comfort to her in her bewilderment, for she remembered not a time in her adult life without him. “If it were in my place,” she began, voice quavering with emotion. “I would have asked you to stay, though I realise that it is not your decision to make. I heard news that Oropher will be leading an army under the command of the High King.”

“This is true,” he said and allowed for her to rest her head against his chest, for she was tired from worrying. “I am aware that the Silvan are peaceful Elves who have little wish to interfere with the business of others. My father is, however, very aware that peace demands sacrifice, as are you and I.”

Her eyes narrowed at the comment concerning their lost home, though she did not pursue it. “Your father’s first concern is the safety of his son, as you would well know, Thranduil. I would believe you are the one who has such awareness as you speak of, and I do not want to see you perish… you have not yet gifted Arda with your full presence, my Prince.”

“Idhrenil,” he whispered, touched by the honest words of compassion. “I cannot promise you that I will not fall, though I shall do my best to prevent it.” He touched her cheek with a gentle hand, caressing it and allowing her to lean into his touch, her eyes closing. “I shall not weep,” she said before reopening her eyes, revealing to him the unshed tears. “Not yet.”

Thranduil could swear that he felt his heart crumbling into pieces for her and her love for him, only exceeded by his love for her.

“I have not yet decided what I will do,” he said, though the hope was already lost on her. “Do not lie,” she whispered and withdrew from his touch, for she was hurt and haunted by thoughts of the future and what it might bring to her and all that she loved. “Had I been unwise,” she said and moved towards the grand oak that stood so proud, much like both Thranduil and Oropher. “I would have asked you not to defy your father, though I am aware that it lies not in your nature to defy your kin.”

The Prince closed his eyes then, knowing that the bond shared between him and Idhrenil was not that of friendship, and now that he had found his soulmate, he would have to abandon her. It was uncertain whether they would ever see one another again.

“You are wise,” he said and once again he reached out for her, and she did not withdraw, allowing what was already destined to occur between them, and she embraced him and wished to never let go of him, for it would be the ruin of them both if he was to perish. “And you are a fool, Thranduil,” she said and smiled a bittersweet smile, still fighting her tears. “The most stubborn elf I have known to this day, and yet I know not an elf as sincere as you, nor do I know an elf that is more secretive and would rather conceal his every act of kindness, for he is so hopelessly altruistic.”

Thranduil ran his hand along her silver hair, kissing her lightly on the crown of her head. “ _Guren nallatha nalú achenin le_ ,” he whispered and leant into her warmth one last time, feeling her tremble. The desire to kiss her was suddenly overwhelming, and so he sealed his love for her by brushing his lips against hers. It was a brief goodbye, and as he released her, he could see that her cheeks were wet and he felt his heart ache and cursed himself for having caused her such suffering.

“ _Unad nuithatha i nîr e-guren nalú aderthad vín_ ,” she whispered. As she looked at her golden Prince, her voice broke and the tears came.

 

PART THREE

Greenwood the Great was an area of ancient Woodland, inhabited mainly by the Silvan Elves and those few of Sindarin origins who had chosen not to leave for Aman, Elves such as Oropher and Thranduil. In the intimate surroundings of Oropher’s home, Amon Lanc, the Prince had immediately felt that this was his place in the world, amongst the Silvan, and he doubted not the rightness of his role. It was to be his one true home, in the woods of Oromë, amidst the Grey Mountains and Gondor.

All was however not well in their realm and they were haunted by the times of war that hung over them and their home, and the shadow of Mordor came closer for every day that went by.

The Alliance had been formed in 3430 of the Second Age and was a response to the imposing threat that was the Dark Lord Sauron, who had attacked Gondor in S.A. 3429. It was Elendil,High King of the Dúnedain, who then proceeded by forming an alliance with Gil-galad, as he had a wish to repel Sauron’s attack. Elendil bound the Alliance with an oath and invoked the name of Eru to witness it, a highly unusual step of precaution of anyone to make, even those of royal blood.

In these restless times, the Elves of Greenwood the Great were preoccupied in their preparations for the Great War, and Thranduil watched with vigilant eyes, for he found himself to be dubious and therefore concerned.

“Ada,” he said one day as Oropher was seated by his desk, busying himself with letters of diplomacy. “I am very uncertain of the weaponry and general accoutrements of our soldiers,” he admitted and watched as his father’s thick eyebrows furrowed in thought, yet he did not scold his son for being doubtful. “I understand your concerns, Thranduil, for they are not foreign to me. I will confide in you, if you not object, and as my son and not the Prince of this realm.”

“Of course, Ada,” he said and nodded his head. “Tell me what is lingering on your mind.”

“We have neither the resources nor the weaponry to compete with the Noldor,” Oropher explained and there was a pained expression on his face as he said these words. “I sent word to Gil-galad, whom I had come to consider my equal as king, but I have received no letter of comfort nor has any aid come to us in any other way. Rather than maintain the Alliance, the Noldor have abandoned Eryn Galen, thus leaving the fate of many Elves uncertain.”

Thranduil paled at this news as the situation was even worse than he had feared and he felt terrified at the prospects of his father’s death. “I believed that you had come to an understanding when you attended the council meeting in Lindon,” he whispered, but the words were weak and his father nodded his head in silent agreement. “It was my belief as well. Lindon promised to help us, as we are a young and newly established realm, and those were the words Gil-galad’s spoke on behalf of the Alliance.”

“Perhaps the members of his council were offended by your presence and silent dignity,” the Prince reasoned, for he was quite fond of Gil-galad, having spent the majority of his adult life in the realm that was under his rule. “You must not rationalise things of such poor nature, my son,” the King said and once again sighed. In Lindon, he had found hope that the Noldor and the Sindar could befriend one another again, but now that hope had disappeared into the thin air. “Gil-galad is a wise elf and I am certain that he has more authority than his petty council. There is no excuse for allowing our army to meet its end without as much as a letter of apology, though I am certain that Lindon has far more armoury than its soldiers can bear for themselves.”

Thranduil bowed his head then, feeling his utterance had been rather foolish, but he had not wished to see the High King act with such complete and utter lack of elegance or dignity.

“I apologise, Ada,” he said and received a warming smile from his father. “As I have many times spoken,” he began and touched the cheek of his still young son. “You are already forgiven.”

 

PART FOUR

The days in the Woodland Realm were long and dreary. Thranduil had only spent six months in Amon Lanc and he had already embraced their culture and language, as had been expected of him, and he had trained with the Silvan, some of who were fierce bowmen. They were however not as clever swordsmen, an art Thranduil was happy to guide them in, and he practiced with his sword on what had become a near daily basis. His mind was usually set on battle, despite the fact that his father had not allowed him to fight, but he could not bear to think of the future beyond the Battle.

Sometimes, when the dark hours of night crept over the woodland, Thranduil would watch the stars of Varda and think of days spent, days that were now ancient history and days that were in the lifespan of an elf quite recent. Though he would never admit to it, his heart still clung onto the hope that he would be reunited with a star of his own, and that they would live long and well in this realm. Never would he utter this wish, for it was buried so deep within him that he almost did not recognise it himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Sindarin:  
> Maer aduial, Miluis - Good evening, lovely one  
> Hiril vuin - My Lady  
> Henig - My child  
> Goheno nin - Forgive me  
> Mellon nín - My friend
> 
> Pronounciation:  
> In the name Idhrenil, "dh" is similar to a 'th' sound as in 'these', it should be harder than the Sindarin TH :)


End file.
